


Walpurgis Moon

by jemariel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (kinda), (loosely), Beltane, Case Fic, Coming In Pants, Creature Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Fae & Fairies, Fae Castiel, Fae Magic, Fae world wanderings, Festival of Walpurgis, First Time, Frottage, Human!Cas implications, M/M, Walpurgisnacht, fairy wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemariel/pseuds/jemariel
Summary: Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini-Bang! Art byPimentogirl.Dean bends low and plucks a sprig of tiny blue flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes. If you like that sort of thing. He plucks a few more stems until he has a small bundle.Behind him he hears a tinkle, like chimes in the wind. But when he turns - nothing. Only dark tree trunks.A brush of wind, like a feather or a leaf brushing his cheek, and he whips around, ready with a cold iron crowbar in his fist, but again, nothing. Except - is that movement? Between the trees?No. Just a trick of the moonlight.Probably.Dean meets a stranger. Be he friend or foe?





	Walpurgis Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Pimentogirl](https://pimentogirl.tumblr.com/) for the truly incredible art you will find within. *bows* I am humbled.
> 
> Also thanks to my beta readers [Sharkfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish) ([reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/)) and [woahthisguy](https://woahthisguy.tumblr.com/) for encouragement, advice, and listening to me kvetch. (Thank Sharkfish especially because without her this would be struggling to earn a T rating and lmao that would not be cute.)
> 
> And finally thanks to the mods over at the [SPN Holiday Reverse Mini-Bang](https://spnholidayreverseminibang.tumblr.com/) for hosting this event! My first bang ever and I had a blast!!

It’s quiet here. Gentle night breezes rustle the leaves and grass, stirring Dean’s hair. Tiny blue flowerheads nod in the moonlight between the shifting shadows. Dean tugs his coat tighter around his shoulders and tries not to let his boots trample too many of the flowers.

He probably shouldn’t be here. Sam had wanted to wait. “Wait until we know for sure what we’re up against, Dean.” Yeah, and lose another kid in the meantime. Great plan, Sammy. Dean knows enough.

The children that have been disappearing from this grove... the lore all points to the bluebells and the fairies that care for them.

Dean bends low and plucks a sprig of tiny blue flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes. If you like that sort of thing. He plucks a few more stems until he has a small bundle.

Behind him he hears a tinkle, like chimes in the wind. But when he turns - nothing. Only dark tree trunks.

A brush of wind, like a feather or a leaf brushing his cheek, and he whips around, ready with a cold iron crowbar in his fist - but again, nothing. Except - is that movement? Between the trees?

No. Just a trick of the moonlight.

Probably.

 _Tap tap tap_ \- Dean whips around at the touch to his shoulder, definite and solid, but his crowbar swings through open air. This time, there is a laugh, a low rumbling chortle. “Alright you tiny dick!” His shout shatters the silence. “Get out here and show yourself!”

“You’re different.”

Finally. Dean whirls to find himself nose to nose with --

The most otherworldly beautiful face. Moonglow-blue eyes under dark hair, pale skin freckled with glitter.

Dean winds up to swing his crowbar.

The face contorts, all beauty cringing away behind an animal snarl with sharpened teeth. The creature catches Dean’s wrist before he can get very far, twisting, and Dean feels his whole arm go icy-hot and numb before the crowbar thumps to the grass and he is released. Dean scrambles for the weapon, but finds only a stick where his crowbar used to be.

Fucking fairies.

“There, now, isn’t that better?” The fairy’s tone is conversational, and Dean glares up to see him lounging against a nearby tree trunk, blending into the woods in his earthen greens and browns, except for his face, bare feet and hands. He grins down at Dean, and though his teeth are no longer sharp, his smile could cut glass. “Threats are not necessary.”

Dean stands. Ok. Talking it is, he supposes.

“What do you mean, I’m ‘different’?” It’s not quite the question he’d planned to ask.

The fairy shrugs. “You know what you’re doing. You know why you’re here. You came prepared.” He sniffs, pulls a disgusted face. “Frankly, you _stink_ of iron.”

“Yeah, well. Occupational hazard.” If he can get him talking, maybe Dean can get some information out of this little trickster.

“Why are you here, anyway? A little old to be picking bluebells at Beltane, aren’t you?”

Dean doesn’t have an answer to that, so he shrugs it off. “What’s your name?”

“Ah ah ah,” the fairy waggles a finger at him. “I asked you first. Truth for truth.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’m --” he probably shouldn’t, but it’s tumbling out of his lips before he can think twice. “I’m looking for the kids that have gone missing here.”

The easy mischief drains from the fairy’s face. “The children,” he frowns.

“Yes --” Dean steps closer, seizing on the topic. “Are you - Do you know where they are?”

“Castiel.”

“Excuse me?”

“Truth for truth, and you asked for my name. Castiel.”

Dean blinks hard. “Right. Um. Castiel. Do you --”

Castiel pushes off the trunk of the tree with a dancerly step, and flicks the iridescent wings behind him. Dean hadn’t even noticed those; they glitter with their own starlight when he moves. As he gets closer the moonlight catches on shimmering patterns under his skin, a wreath of bluebells that threads over his cheekbone and brow as he peers closely at Dean.

“‘Occupational hazard,’ you said.” Castiel asks. “What does that mean?”

“Umm.” Dean swallows. Castiel is far too close for comfort. Dean takes a step or two stumbling back and Castiel just follows him, step for step. Dean’s next breath is full of wild earth and flower stems. “It’s -- we. My brother and I, we hunt -- monsters, and --”

“So you think I’m a monster.”

“What? No! No --” except that Castiel is absolutely the sort of thing he should be hunting. Why is he here, instead?

Castiel pulls away. “That was a lie,” he snarls, and flicks his wings open with a snick like a dozen windchimes silenced at once.

“No, wait!” Dean reaches out and snags a handful of rough homespun leaves, but then Castiel is gone in a swirl of silver-blue shimmer. The breeze rustles the trees and the bluebells nod, just as before. When Dean whirls to cast his gaze over the whole clearing, his foot nudges against iron at his feet -- his crowbar. He bends to retrieve it, stares at it laying cold in his palm for a long minute.

“Son of a bitch.”

~*~

Dean tries, he tries so hard not to let the door squeak when he gets in a little after 1am.

He fails. Stupid motel hinges.

“Dean?” Sam’s head lifts off the pillow and he squints in Dean’s general direction. “What’re you doin?”

“Nothin, Sammy. Go back to sleep,” Dean whispers as he sheds his jacket and shoes.

“You weren’t at that meadow were you?” Sam must still be half asleep, because he doesn’t even sound angry. It’s all just vague mumbles and trailing off at the end.

“Don’t worry about it,” he soothes, sliding under his own covers.

“You jerk...” Sam mumbles. “Youw’er tot-ally... at’the... meadow...” His next breath is a snore.

Dean nods off to the ticking of the wall clock and Sam’s familiar snores, wishing he had more to show for his late-night transgression.

~*~

It is definitely not morning when an obnoxious tickling in his nose brings Dean out of a too-short sleep. He opens his eyes and sees Castiel in miniature, wings a-flutter, crouching on his pillow less than a handspan from Dean’s face.

 

Dean jerks back. “Jesus - You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself fly-swatted.”

“Do you truly mean to rescue the children?”

That makes him look twice. Castiel seems quieter now, and has both arms wrapped around his knees. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say he was afraid.

“Yes,” Dean says, unequivocal. “That’s our job.”

“I thought your job was to hunt monsters.”

Dean gives a so-so sort of shrug. “Well. Our job really should be to save people from monsters. It’s just... usually that means killing the monster.”

Cas is silent for a long time, then says, “You were right to think us monsters,” and he sounds so small and sad that Dean lays back down to look at him more closely. “I fear that with the Walpurgis moon, the children will be lost.”

“Wait. You mean -- you don’t just mean lost, do you?”

Castiel’s face is all wide bluebell eyes as he sadly shakes his head. “I can help you though,” he says, uncurling from around his legs. “I can provide safe passage and hide you in our realm. If we can sneak past my brothers’ guards --”

“Woah. Hang on. Why should I trust you?” Dean asks.

“You shouldn’t,” Castiel says with a shrugging flick of his wings. “It would be completely within my power and purview to delude you.”

“Gee, comforting.” Dean flops back down on his back.

Castiel cocks his head to the side. “Was it? It wasn’t intended to be.”

Dean bites his tongue to stop a laugh. “Look, uh - thanks for the info, but I’m not just going to blindly follow a fairy back to his castle like some -”

“Child?”

Dean bites his lips. “Yeah.”

They are quiet for long moments; Dean fidgets under Castiel’s grave and heavy stare.

“We didn’t used to be monsters, Dean,” he says at last. Dean doesn’t remember telling Castiel his name. “We have always lead curious children into the woods, especially for the Walpurgis feast, when the veil is thin. They come to play, to sing our songs and dance with us. They have been our guests of honor.”

“Just -- just guests, right? Not, y’know…  invited to dinner, as dinner?”

Castiel points to his own nose, then places the tip of his tiny finger on Dean’s. “That’s just it. This year the children are not playing. They are penned. They are sheep. Lambs to the slaughter. I think my brothers are trying to punish humanity. They’ve had enough. The anger has been building for centuries but --”

“None of this changes the fact that for all intents and purposes, I’m in bed with the enemy here.”

“I want to save the children, help them come home,” he says with his curious head-cock. “Does that not make us allies?”

“But -- they’re your family.”

“Not if they’re going to act like this.” His tiny face is firm and grim.

Dean rolls on his side, watching the small sad figure with the wings like gossamer. “Hey -- How come you’re tiny? You weren’t like this before.”

Castiel looks down at himself like he hadn’t realized he was any different. “Should I not be? I can change.”

“No, it’s --” But that’s as far as he gets before Cas is full-sized and lying, suddenly, very very close to Dean. Nose-to-nose close, intimate close. Dean’s breath stutters and he jerks back.

“Whoa. Warn a guy, would you?”

“Sorry,” Castiel says, but his grin does not look apologetic in the slightest. He peers at Dean closely, following him as Dean leans backward, keeps leaning until he nearly falls off the bed. On instinct he grabs at Castiel’s arms to hold himself up, and Castiel laughs, a deep rumble that has no business coming from a fucking _fairy_ . But then he pulls Dean back on the bed, _on top of him_ for fuck’s sake, and Dean scrambles immediately off and into a sitting position, still entangled. Cas is staring at him with open fascination, and Dean can’t help but stare right back. His gaze darts over glittered bluebell patterns, ever-changing eyes, full pink lips, mussed hair strewn with starry petals -

Then Cas leans in, aiming - Dean is certain - for a kiss, and Dean scrambles back.

“Hey, uh -- is this really the time?” His heart races with the near-miss.

“Sorry,” he says again, and this time he does look a little bashful. “I’ve never been this close to a grown human.” He reaches out and brushes soft fingertips over Dean’s lips.

“Shouldn’t we, uh -” Dean murmurs against the pad of Castiel’s finger. “Wake Sam. And. Go after the - your family -”

“Shhhh. Sam won’t wake.”

“What?” Dean’s alarm snaps him out.

“Look at the clock, Dean.”

Dean frowns, then glances over at the clock on the wall -- with an actual face and hands instead of digital, and all those hands are stopped. It occurs to him that he hasn’t heard it ticking since he woke. It’s been 3:23 am for the last ten minutes.

“Did you do that?” he asks.

Castiel nods slowly.

“Huh. So we can. Um. Take as long as we want here?” He’s pretty sure this is a bad idea, but the heat of Castiel’s gaze on him and the scent of him -- like picking dandelions in summer -- has Dean’s brain spinning.

Castiel humms affirmative as he moves closer again, sliding his hand from Dean’s lips, over his jaw, his neck, up to cup the back of Dean’s head. Dean’s skin sparks in the wake of his touch. “You are _fascinating_ ,” he whispers.

“Cas -” Dean murmurs, licking his lips.

“Dean,” Castiel says, leaning closer, closer, until he just barely brushes Dean’s lips with his own, more breath than skin.

Dean is helpless to deny the fizzing in his veins at the mothwing-brush of Castiel’s lips. He pushes up and in to close that final distance. Castiel’s lips are warm and soft and sweet. Tension ratchets higher under Dean’s skin, in his gut, and he surrenders, burrowing his hands into Cas’s clothes and holding him close to kiss him deeper.

Cas is warm and solid under his clothes, and Dean feels a jittery relief; he wasn’t quite certain what to expect. Dean tugs Cas down on top of him, and he gives a surprised “Mmph!” against Dean’s mouth before breaking away, eyes bright with laughter. His hands slide up Dean’s belly and chest, rucking up his shirt as he goes. Dean sucks in breath, then leans up and buries his nose in the hair behind Castiel’s ear to breathe in the flower stem scent of him.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you in the clearing,” Castiel whispers.

“I ain’t complaining,” Dean says, fighting through strange folds in Castiel’s garments, trying to find skin. “I thought you said I smelled like iron.”

“Part of you does,” Castiel hums. “But the iron was hiding something. I could tell. I wanted to find out what it was.”  He pulls back, dragging his nose along Dean’s cheekbone. “Turns out it’s sweet.” Dean turns to meet his lips again.

Castiel may be the shape of a human, but there is a suggestion of sharpness. Like if Dean kisses too deep he’ll cut himself on his tongue, and the thrill of finding that knife’s edge jitters in his stomach.  And his hands are _everywhere._ One moment they’re cupping Dean’s jaw, the next they’re dipping under his shoulders, and then one hand is drifting down his spine to tease under the waist of his boxers while the other claws at the neck of his T-shirt -- and yes, claws, Dean can feel the sharp points scrape over his collarbone,and Dean trembles on the edge of danger. But oh, his _mouth._ His mouth is all softness, and he kisses with such uninhibited fervor that Dean can’t help but open wide to the sweep and delve of his tongue.

Dean breaks back. “Jesus,” he pants against Cas’s lips. They are red and puffy and slick, and Cas’s eyes are flashing with gold and blue iridescence. Dean works his hands in, under, needing to find skin under the rough-woven clothes. “How does this thing work? Can I --”

“You -- you want me to --?” Cas asks, all breathy and wide-eyed.

“Yeah, c’mon, Cas, I wanna see.” Dean pulls ineffectually until Cas sits back on Dean’s legs and tugs the tunic up over his head. His wings flick and flutter and Dean wonders for just a second about the construction of his shirt -- but he has other things on his mind.

Castiel is unnaturally smooth under his clothing. Undefined. He doesn’t have nipples, or a navel, or even pores. But what he does have is a tracery of fine bluebell patterns everywhere, curling over the suggestion of muscle and bone, galaxy swirls of subcutaneous sparkle. Dean lets his fingertips follow the patterns down Castiel’s neck to his sternum, spread across the vague swell of his chest. Cas shivers, whole-body, and the glitter flashes, the blue swirls deepen like an indigo blush.

“Does that feel good?” Dean asks.

Cas’s eyes slide close and his teeth dent his lip. “Yes. But I want to see you.”

Dean sits up enough to pull his shirt off over his head, and Cas’s hands follow the hem up his chest. When his fingertips find Dean’s nipples he stops with a small “Oh,” of surprise. Dean tries not to gasp too audibly but Castiel’s feather-light circling touch is going to drive him mad.

When he looks again at Castiel, his skin has lost some of that eerie smoothness, and those glitters and swirls are gone. That’s disappointing, but Dean reaches out to press his thumbs into his brand-new nipples to see if they’re sensitive too. Cas gives a short cry and Dean takes that as a yes.

“This is better, isn’t it?” Cas whispers, eyes tight shut and pushing into Dean’s hands.

“I liked you just fine before,” Dean says. “How did you do that?”

“This is not my true form, Dean. I want -- I wanted to be pleasing for you.”

A fairy blushing is a hell of a thing. Dean grins and leans up to kiss him, pulls him down into his arms with both hands around the low curve of his back. “You are,” he whispers against his lips. “Trust me. In fact, uh. Could you. Bring back the, uh -- sparkly stuff?”

Cas hmmms, a trilling purr of a sound, and the galaxy sparks and flower-vine swirls paint themselves back over his skin. Dean grins. “Best of both worlds,” he says.

Dean spends a long time tracing them with his fingertips, down Castiel’s shoulder and arm, around his back to the place where gossamer wings sprout. “This is more you, isn’t it?” he asks as his lips ghost over a nebula.

“Yes,” Cas sighs.

Dean follows the curl of a bluebell with his tongue, down the curve and sweep of Castiel’s shoulder. Traces the line of his collarbone and thumbs over the vine that crosses it, meandering down toward the human-brown nipple. When he makes it there and curls his tongue, closes his lips over the bud, Castiel gasps and clutches at Dean’s hair with claw-sharp fingers.

“Easy now,” Dean murmurs against his skin.

The claws soften to fingertips, but Cas doesn’t let go. Just murmurs a breathless _“please”_ and rolls his hips against Dean’s belly. Dean feels --

Nothing. All at once he feels nothing, his arms empty, but right in front of his face is a floating, fluttering ball of light.

“Well that was disappointing,” Castiel says, and Dean has to look closely to see his tiny disgruntled face through the glow of his wings.

Dean bursts into giggles, doubling over to bury his face in the blankets. “Can’t say I’ve ever got that reaction before.”

Castiel glares, but the effect is lost given that he is currently no more than six inches tall; Dean just giggles more. “I can leave if you’d rather --”

“No, wait, Cas -- don’t go. Sorry,” Dean says, holding out a hand but not sure how to touch him like this.

Then he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore, because Cas is back to full size and very close again, and Dean remembers his teeth, his claws, and the firmness of his groin pressed up against Dean’s belly moments ago. Dean’s heart thumps.

“Do you want to continue, then?” Castiel asks, eyes down on the blankets. Dean threads a hand through Castiel’s hair to pull his gaze up.

“Yeah, I do,” he says, and leans in to lay Cas down on the bed. He goes willingly, but at the last instant his wings flare out bright on either side. “Oh shit -- does that hurt?”

Castiel shakes his head and says, “It’s fine.” Dean goes willingly into the V of Castiel’s legs, only his boxers and Castiel’s thin trousers between them. Dean can see the hard ridge of his cock and wonders for just a moment if it would be as smooth and featureless as Cas’s chest had been. Wonders how far the stardust and vine patterns reach. But he barely has time to process this idea before Cas is reeling him in, grabbing at his hips with both hands and strong thighs and _grinding_ their cocks together through their clothing.

“Oh fuck --” Dean gasps, and he can’t help it. He rolls his hips hard into Cas’s, his cock surging to full hardness. He leans down, careful of the delicate wings splayed over the pillows, and seeks out Castiel’s lips. They open wide, _all_ of Cas opens wide for Dean, his legs, his arms, and Dean just -- falls into him, he can’t help it. Dean shifts until he feels his cock line up against Cas’s and grinds down into him --

“AH! What --” Cas shouts, his pleasure clearly taking him by surprise. The patterns on his skin glow vivid blue and Dean drops his mouth to the juncture of his neck, suddenly needing to add his own mark to the shimmering skin. Cas shivers and shakes and squeezes below him, his skin and wings flashing with irregular sparks. Their cocks drag and grind dirty together, the friction so hot and perfect, base and primal in light of the ethereal beauty of Castiel. “Dean -- Dean, I --” he gasps, gripping Dean tight with trembling thighs.

“I got you,” Dean whispers against the purpling mark he’s left on Cas’s skin. “Just let go, I got you.”

Castiel is shivering like he’s about to break apart, clinging to Dean and grinding up into him helplessly. Dean pulls back to watch as he glows brighter and brighter, rolling his hips to the rhythm of Castiel’s shaking and running his hands down his patterned flanks just to watch the sparks flare in the wake of his fingers. With one great final flash and a seize of his hips --

~*~

Dean is awoken by the jangle of his alarm, sunlight streaming through the windows. Sam is already brushing his teeth. “Morning,” he says around the toothbrush. “Good dreams?”

Dean throws a pillow at him to hide his flush.

~*~

“Dean, we’ve been here already. We didn’t find anything.”

Sam follows Dean through the grove of bluebells, stepping gingerly around the swathes of little flowers. Dean shifts his bag full of iron and salt on his shoulder and mutters, “ _You_ didn’t.”

“You di-- wait. I knew it! You were here last night by yourself, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t by myself,” Dean grouses. “I met someone here.”

“Someone.”

“Yes. Just. Just trust me, ok?”

Same keeps grumbling, but Dean stops listening. Castiel should be around here somewhere. He doesn’t know how he knows, but Castiel will be here. He’s sure of it.

A soft chirrup and Dean turns to find Castiel perched on a slender branch, long toes curled around it. He places a shushing finger on his lips, then points deeper into the grove -- and then vanishes.

“Who the --” Sam gawks up, and Dean is somewhat relieved that Castiel hadn’t decided to be invisible to Sam or whatever.

“Like I said, I met someone,” Dean snarks. “I trust him.”

“Ok -- Is that -- Is he a --”

“A fairy, yes. Come on.” Dean starts to move where Castiel had pointed.

Sam catches him by the arm, spinning him back. “You trust him. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dean’s antsy. He wants to follow before Cas moves on or decides they’re not worth the trouble. “Look, he’s on our side, man. He doesn’t want the kids to get hurt, and they will if we don’t hurry up, okay?”

“Dean --” Sam stops him again. “Come on. Dean. This is a trap. You gotta know that.”

Dean scowls, a sour stubborn taste in his mouth. “Even if it is, it’s our best shot at getting those kids back safe. Now. You coming or not?” Dean shrugs off Sam’s hand with a hoist of his bag and strides off through the bluebells.

“Oh no no no, you don’t get to run off alone. I’m coming. If only to get your ass out of trouble.”

Dean grins. “Atta boy, Sam.”

Together, they disappear into the woods.

~*~

Time moves differently in the fae lands. Dean’s not sure if they’ve been walking through the woods for an hour, a day, or a lifetime. The bright May morning is behind them, traded for an eerie twilight without stars. Only a huge gravid moon, looming on the horizon in a net of just-budding branches.

The only other light is the phosphorescence of Castiel’s wings and the tracery under his skin. He glows brighter, blueish and illuminating in the yellow haze of the moon. Dean’s ears prick in the quiet of their footfalls, catching only the sigh of wind through the trees at first -- and then, distant pipes, drums, and cackling voices. Faintly, he hears the cries of the captured children, though he can’t tell if they are laughing or screaming.

Castiel grabs their hands. “We’re just in time,” he says. “Move quickly.”

And then, quick like a tight-drawn hood over his eyes and ears, the world goes dark.

~*~

When Dean comes to, he is bound hand and foot and the pipes and drums and cruel laughter are all around him. He and Sam are on their knees, the heat of the bonfire at their backs. All around, curious faces and flickering wings in the firelight, the glow of many different colors from many different skins.

Dean feels the pressure of a hand on the back of his neck. “Lucifer. I come bearing gifts.” It’s Cas’s voice, and Dean tries to turn his head to look, but Cas’s claws in his flesh stop the movement.

“Very good, Castiel! I am so proud of you!” A high mocking voice. Dean lifts the corner of his eye just enough to see a tall fae in front of them - different from the rest. His wings are huge and wood-wrought; his brow is adorned with antlers in spring velvet. “These are the humans that threatened us?”

“They would have come here with iron and salt and witchcraft to bind us. They would have stolen your bounty, my king.”

Dean catches Sam’s eye, and yeah, he’s going in for the biggest, most furious “I told you so” if they survive this. Like he’s not kicking himself enough already. Stupid, stupid. Anger and fear start to build up in Dean’s belly; he feeds the anger while dousing the fear. Anger is more useful.

He is going to murder Cas.

Heavy footfalls ring out as the kind - Lucifer - steps down the dias toward them. “That’s just what you humans do, isn’t it? You think you own the place. Just because you trample all over it. You’ve been doing this for centuries and we had to sit by and play nice.”

“We weren’t - We’re just trying to get back what you stole in the first place!” Sam snaps.

“I don’t care!” shouts the fairy king. “Tonight is Walpurgisnacht. Tonight, the veil is thin. Tonight we take back some of ours and humanity is not going to know what hit them --”

“ _Now_!”

That’s Castiel’s voice, ringing out through the night, and suddenly Dean’s hands are free. He doesn’t question - just goes straight for Lucifer’s face with a fist while he’s not expecting it. The fairy king’s head snaps back, but then he’s snarling at Dean, eyes aglow and teeth like a wolf’s --

Then Sam is on him, tackling him to the ground and pressing a bar of iron into his neck. Lucifer _shrieks_ , and the brand smokes and stinks of burning flesh and fur. It won’t hold him for long -- Dean is already searching himself for any of the knives he had secreted away when a hand pulls at his shoulder.

It’s Castiel. “Come on --” he says. Dean pulls away.

“You tricked me,” he says.

“Dean, you can’t kill him. Many have tried. Come, we have to get to the children --”

Near Castiel’s head there is a bright flash of smoke and flame. Dean turns. Sam is running toward them, the fairy king gearing up for another attack from behind. Dean feels a hand on his wrist -- Castiel’s, and he’s pulling him along like they don’t have time to argue.

Two other fae -- one with long red hair and an ice blue glow, one blonde man with greenish glow -- are already pulling the lost kids away from a huge grotesque Maypole. They are red in the face, dizzy and stumbling like they have been dancing this Maypole for weeks, and perhaps they have. They usher the frightened and exhausted children -- five of them, boys and girls, the oldest nearing eleven and the youngest still in diapers -- toward Sam and Dean. “Take them,” says the girl with red hair. “We’ll hold them off.”

From behind them Dean can hear the furious roar of the fairy king and his guards chasing after them. The two others dash back with magic clutched in their palms. Dean catches Castiel’s arm in his grip when he tries to follow.

“You could have told us that was the plan!” Dean barks. Castiel shakes his head.

“Lucifer would have sensed deception in you. I can mask it in myself, but you --”

“Why did you need us in the first place?”

“To guide the children back while we close the way behind.”

“You’re going to --”

“Close the way, yes. It’s better this way.”

“Cas --” but Castiel cups Dean’s cheek in his palm and kisses him slow and deep. When he pulls back his eyes gleam ultraviolet.

“You know the way now,” he says. “Go.” And then he is gone in a flit of wings.

Dean stands, staring back into the silvering moonglow until a small boy’s hand tugs him along. Sam is muttering “Dean -- Dean! Come on!” They dash through the trees and Dean finds he does know the way, following a glowing path of ethereal flowers between the trees. Behind them is the sound of struggle, banging doors, shouts and anger.

The struggle does not follow them, however. They move quiet and unnoticed along the bluebell path. As they move, a huge final clash echoes through the woods, a horrible rending rip, an echoing anguished cry.

“What was that?” the oldest girl asks.

“It sounded like one of the nice ones,” says the small boy in Dean’s arms.

“Sounded like Cas,” Sam says, with a long look at Dean.

Dean says nothing. Just keeps moving them forward into the light of their May morning.

~*~

The children are safe, returned to their parents’ arms. Dean’s not sure what story Sam helped them concoct to explain their adventures; he’s got other things on his mind.

It’s midmorning. The dewdrops bend the bluebell stems toward the moss and dampen Dean’s fingertips as he bends to pluck the sprigs. He picks and picks until he has a small bundle, circling his way ever closer to the forlorn figure under the tree.

It’s strange to see Castiel in human clothes. He’d been naked when they pulled him from the forest, newly wingless and human, hysterical with loss and the pangs of change. Exiled from his home for daring to care for humans.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Cas’s eyes are still startling blue when he looks up at Dean, even though the only marking left on his skin is the purplish bruise that Dean left there. Dean tries not to stare at it, but can’t help a lick to his lips, remembering. Castiel’s mood is difficult to read, but Dean doesn’t think he’s unwelcome. He steps closer, kneels down in the damp grass by Castiel’s hip.

He waffles for a moment between apologies and gratitude before settling on, “Thank you. For what you did back there. It’s more than we could have asked, and there’s no way we could have got those kids back without you.”

Cas’s eyes slide away. “And in return I got my friends killed and myself --” he cuts off, then sighs. “But that’s on me. Easy as it would be to blame you… none of that is your fault.”

Dean picks idly at a loose thread of his jeans. “If you’d known it would end like this…. Would you have done any different?” He can’t meet Cas’s eyes, half afraid of the answer.

“No.” Dean looks up. There’s a tiny quirk to Cas’s lips and his eyes are clear. “Lucifer’s actions were unconscionable. I couldn’t have just stood by. And I --” He stops to bite his lip and blush, the gesture so very very human that it sets an ache down in Dean’s chest. “I would not have met you, otherwise.” He’s blushing again. Dean wants to kiss his warming cheek.

Instead he hears himself saying, “Look, um. I know we’re a poor replacement, but --” he swallows the lump in his throat. “You could come with us. Help us save more people.”

Castiel’s brow draws in. “Help you how? What good am I like this?”

“As good as any of us,” Dean answers, and he picks up Castiel’s hand to place the little messy bundle of bluebells in his palm.

Castiel’s fingers close around the flower stems. “I don’t want your pity,” he says.

“You don’t have it,” Dean says firmly. “I just -- I just want you with me.” That wasn’t -- “With us, I mean. I want you with us. We. We want...” He hadn’t meant to be quite so revealing, but when Castiel meets his eyes again there is a softness, a mischief in them that makes it difficult to regret his slip of the tongue.

“Oh?” Castiel hums. “Do you now?”

Dean feels his face flush, but he nods. Castiel pulls him closer by the hand, and for long moments after they are just two new lovers in a spring meadow, enacting their own blessings.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, you can follow me on [tumblr](https://jemariel.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi!
> 
> Kudos make my day. Comments make my week. <3


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